Five Reasons
by letmefallasleep
Summary: "Jak was like a miracle. Before he showed up, we were losing, and losing bad. But I regretted letting him join. For five very simple reasons." Torn's opinions and observations about Jak, Daxter, and the events of Jak II. Rated for Angst, language, and violence. NO SLASH
1. Never Part Of A Bigger Cause

A/N: Alright... so, this is going to be a five chapter series, each one detailing a separate reason why Torn regretted letting Jak and Daxter join the underground. This chapter is the prequel, and chapter one.

Warnings: Language, violence, mentions of torture.

Disclaimer: I own nothing other than the computer I use to write this. Jak And Daxter, and all characters involved belong to Naughty Dog.

* * *

Jak was like a Goddamn miracle. Before he showed up, the Underground was losing, and losing bad.

I should know; as it's unofficial commander, I had the unfortunate job of claiming and identifying bodies, and then notifying next of kin. So I got a real clear picture of what this war was costing us every day.

And to make it worse… none of the bodies seemed to change anything. No matter how many of us threw ourselves into the battle, it seemed like it never made any difference. We fought, we bled, and we died, but the Baron and his evil continued on.

And then out of nowhere, this fucking teenager shows up. Hell, he was only seventeen. But I knew from the moment Jak walked into my base, that he was trouble. It was instantaneous; he set every nerve I had on end. Yeah, there was the cocky swagger, the well-defined muscles… But it was his damn eyes.

I'd seen eyes like that before; shit, people say mine didn't use to be much different than his, back before I met Ashelin. It's the eyes of someone that ain't all there. Those crazy fuckers who beat all the odds to do the impossible shit no one else will even try. 'Cause they got nothing to live for but their hate.

Was the last thing I needed to deal with. Not only did I not know this kid from Mar, but he pushed every warning button I had. This little shit was gonna cause trouble. Big trouble.

The first 'mission' I sent him and his little orange rat on was a fucking joke. Steal a Goddamn flag, bring it back to base. I was hoping that –against all my instincts –the two little punks would fall in a pit of Eco, or maybe get eaten by a metal head.

Heh. Definitely didn't expect them to bring the whole damn place down around my head. Don't think they expected it either.

I was impressed, and that was my first mistake with the pair. I let 'em join.

But even though Jak and his evil rat did more in five months than we'd accomplished in five years, I still regret my decision to let the kid join. And there were five reasons.

* * *

Chapter One: Never Part Of A Bigger Cause

(Or Why Jak Hates Everyone But The Rat)

Jak definitely wasn't a team player. And he sure as hell didn't care about the Underground.

We were means to an end for him. He didn't care about what the Baron was doing to the innocent people of Haven, or how the Baron's ineptitude was going to get the entire city destroyed. None of that mattered to him. All that mattered was he wanted the Baron dead –for reasons I didn't know for a long time –and he needed to be the one to do it.

I remember when Ashelin gave me the first hint that the kid just didn't give a shit about anyone but his rat. After Jak joined the Underground, the number of stolen zoomers nearly tripled. If the kid didn't wanna walk, he simply threw somebody out of their zoomer, and took off. To make it worse, he seemed to get off on destroying the ones he stole. I mean, hell, the kid destroyed anything with an engine, but I remember watching him this one time…

* * *

Torn resisted the urge to duck as he watched Jak and the Rat fly around the corner to the back alley base entrance. While he knew the kid wouldn't hit him –Shit, Jak was one of the best driver's Torn had ever seen –the kid was definitely pushing the limits of what the small zoomer could do. The green and purple vehicle whizzed by him –barely missing the top of his head –and that was when Torn realized that Jak wasn't slowing down.

He could only watch, dumbfounded, as Jak goosed the throttle, before simultaneously jumping off the bike, and dropping the altitude, leaving him enough time to perch on the side of one of the buildings like a Goddamn bat as the bike exploded in a ball of flame.

"Definitely not your best," Daxter said dismissively, as they dropped down from the wall, and moved towards the stunned Commander.

Jak shrugged lazily. "It's hard to get a nice bang with those little ones; they got shit for energy. Think those ones only got a three cell fuel source. Wish I couldda nabbed a Flyer though; those things throw some serious flames when they go. Some of 'em got _twelve_ cells."

When the duo seen the incredulous look on Torn's face, Jak's face contorted in scorn. "What the hell is your problem?" The punk demanded, folding his arms across his chest. "We got your little trigger happy scientist out safe and sound, and we didn't even have to kill any of your old pals in the KG."

"Where the fuck did you get the zoomer, Jak?" Torn asked, his voice dangerously low. Instantly, he watched the change come over Jak, as the young man pulled himself up out of his slouch to his full height, eyes flashing angrily as he clenched his fists.

"I jacked it. Ain't like you _pay_ me enough to get my own supply of disposable vehicles," The shit head answered back, condescension and mockery practically oozing from his pores.

"They're _not_ disposable! Do you realize how much _we_ pay for those Mar-forsaken vehicles?! The ones you've been _blowing_ _up_ left and right?!"

Jak rolled his eyes, as Daxter scurried down his leg, and towards the sub-level door. "That wasn't one of yours, all right? Did you not hear me say I stole it?"

"Take a look around you, shit-for-brains! Does it look like the people you're stealing 'em from can afford it either?! We're in the _slums_, Jak! Some of these people slave for _years_ to get enough money to get a zoomer! It's bad enough you take 'em; but then just to blow 'em up to get your kicks?!"

"Uh… Jak? There's some good yakkow burgers down here."

Both men turned at Daxter's purposefully light-hearted voice.

"I'll be down in a sec, Dax," Jak said tightly, his eyes never leaving Torn's. As Daxter scampered off, Jak said, "You know what? This place never did shit for me. Matter of fact, ain't a good thing happened to me since I got to this hell-hole of city. So just why the hell should I care about that a couple of pathetic losers have to walk?"

"Because those 'losers' are backing us, you little shit. The Underground is fighting for those people you don't care about. Those people are prisoners just as much as the poor bastards the Baron keeps locked up in his dungeons."

For the first time in his life, Torn pulled away in fear, as he watched Jak's blue eyes roll into black. This was what the others meant when they talked about Jak 'going dark'.

"No. They're not," Said the voice that wasn't Jak's. "They've got no fucking idea. And neither do you."

* * *

But to be fair, Jak never expected any kindness from anyone else either. He didn't expect the Underground to provide him with anything. Matter of fact, it'd taken Torn a week to figure out the kid was sleeping on the street with only his Rat for warmth, instead of one of the many safe houses, or the emergency barracks at the base. When Torn had asked the kid why he wasn't making use of the numerous beds they had available, Jak had only shrugged.

* * *

"Didn't wanna put anybody out. 'Sides, I'm used to sleepin' on the ground," Jak said carelessly, but Torn almost thought he saw a fraction of a shudder as the kid spoke.

"Look, Jak… It's not like anybody's using 'em. And hell, you're doing the Underground a favor; least we can do is make sure you don't freeze to death out there. Or get picked up by a random KG Sweep," Torn said off-handedly, trying to make it sound as if he didn't really care either. In truth, he kind of felt like shit that he hadn't thought to ask the kid where he was staying before then.

"I'm fine, alright? I'm not exactly the 'social' type in case you ain't noticed. Me and Dax… we do just fine."

Daxter frowned, and leaned down to whisper something in Jak's ear. After a few moments, Jak sighed, and turned his attention back to Torn.

"What would we… _owe_… you for sleeping at the barracks?" He asked tightly.

Torn gave him a dubious look. "It's barracks, Jak. Not a hotel. Open to anyone in the Underground. Just make sure you're not seen comin' and goin', and grab a bunk. Numbers are a bit down lately anyways, and most of the others are in the safe houses. Hell, other than me and Tess, you'll probably have your run of the place."

Jak turned his head back towards Daxter, blue eyes clearly troubled, but the ottsel whispered something else, and slowly, Torn could see the resignation in the young man's eyes.

"Alright… Might as well. Might be nice to sleep in a bed again," He said with a small chuckle.

Torn couldn't figure out what was so funny as the kid stalked off, rodent on his shoulder joining in on what was apparently an inside joke. But the appreciative glance Daxter threw back at Torn made the commander wonder just where the hell the two had been sleeping the past week.

And what type of life the kid had had where he felt he needed to pay for the privilege of a place to bunk down for the night.


	2. Sending Babies To Battle

A/N: Thank you to pingipenguin, Danny Hellcat, paintingwithtoes, and Fire-Eco-Sage for your reviews. I really appreciate them, and they helped me to push and get this next chapter out. : ) Y'all rock. Enjoy!

* * *

Chapter Two: Sending Babies To Battle

(Or Why Sending a 17 Year Old To War Is Bad… Besides The Obvious)

Problem number two was the fact that Jak was only seventeen. And while he was one giant, pissed off seventeen year old, it didn't change the fact that he was still a fucking kid. Hell, in normal circumstances I wouldn't have allowed him to join the Underground.

The biggest thing was, the kid was easily lead around. He thought he wasn't, but with his anger boiling so close to the surface, anybody with half a brain stem could pull his strings, make him dance to their tune.

Just like Krew. I sent the kid over there just to pick up a damn package, and maybe ferret out a little information. Next thing I know, he's helping Krew smuggle shit through the sewers, playin' with the Wastelander, picking up hush money, and helping Krew ship in his drugs. Actin' like the fat man's bodyguards and errand boys.

The kid claimed it was for information. For 'contacts'. Damn kid didn't realize Krew continually threw him and his rat into suicide missions, or shit that had no good intentions… and in return, Krew would throw him just enough of a hint to keep Jak hanging around. Hell, half the shit Krew told him was shit we already knew. The other half wasn't worth what the kid did to get the information.

* * *

"Shit, Jak, is that a Blaster?" Torn asked, seeing the kid loading the sniper rifle with the yellow canisters.

"Yeah. It is."

"And where the fuck did you get it?"

The over-grown hulk of a teenager rolled his eyes. "You ask me that every damn time I come in here with a new gun, or a new mod. And I give you the same damn answer every time. Where the hell do you think I got it?" He asked condescendingly, never even looking up from the damn gun.

Torn growled under his breath, determined to keep his anger in check. "Do I even wanna know who you killed, or what you blew up to '_earn'_ the damn thing?"

The slight wince convinced him that whatever Jak had done, even _he_ regretted it. Which was a bad fucking sign all the way around. Shit.

"Don't even tell me," He snapped, moving his attention back to the map on his desk. "I got a job for you and your rabid squirrel. At the very least, maybe savin' a few Underground lives will make up for whatever the hell you did."

* * *

And then there was the stupid shit that the punk did. He was careless, reckless, as only teenagers could be. Thinking they couldn't die, that they could take on anyone… Didn't need to _listen_ to anyone. The kid didn't like taking orders from anyone, and he'd argue until he was blue in the face if anyone but him came up with a plan. He thought he knew better than fucking anyone, and screw anyone who thought different.

Combined with the kid's temper… Well shit, it was an accident just fucking waiting to blow up, and take out a bunch of innocents with him.

* * *

"What the fuck do you think you're doin', kid?" Torn ground out, his voice barely audible over the explosions and gun fire all around them.

"Gettin' our asses outta here," Jak spat back, pulling his Scatter Gun out of his back holster, and moving to stand up.

But Torn's arm snaked out, and yanked the punk back under the cover of fruit stand. "Not unless you plan on goin' in the back of a KG gut wagon, you little shit!"

"You got a better plan?!"

"Anything's better than your plan, Jak!" Daxter yelled, but both men ignored him, as they fired a few wild shots in the general direction of the KG advancing on their position.

Jak grunted, and went to jump over the stall again, but this time, Torn grabbed him, and tore him down, hard enough to smack the teenager's head off the pavement.

"Will you just fuckin' listen to me for once?!" Torn yelled. Jak glared, his eyes darkening a few shades, before Daxter scrambled back onto Jak's shoulders, and the younger man sighed.

"If you got somethin' to say, then you might wanna hurry up about it!" Jak growled, rubbing the back of his head.

"We move back; I'll lay suppressive fire. There's a sewer access point about half a block back. It'll take us all the way back to the slums."

"And how're we supposed to 'move back' without getting shot?" Daxter asked sarcastically. "In case you didn't notice… There's a couple truckloads of KG shooting at us!"

But Jak was obviously thinking about it. Hell, if the plan hadn't come from Torn, the older man was pretty sure the kid would've run with it. But that damned stubborn little shit was hesitating. And they just didn't have time.

"How 'bout this, shit-for-brains: I'm headin' back to the sewers. Do whatever the fuck you want," Torn bit out, before doing just that.

Despite himself, as he darted out of the safety of the stalls, he waited a moment, making sure Jak was actually going to follow him. The blonde elf did, the stupid rat clutching to his shoulders, as both men slowly but steadily fell back.

But the fucking punk just couldn't let it go. Torn had already scurried across the street, and was halfway down the drain opening, when he turned to lay cover fire for the kid to dart across the street.

But Jak just flashed him a devil-may-care grin, and then the stupid, arrogant bastard popped up from behind the cart like his fucking name sake in the goddamn box. He managed to get off a few shots with his Vulcan, before a yellow Blaster round ripped through his thigh.

Cursing to all the Gods he knew –and some he made up on the spot –Torn tore back across the pavement, grabbing Jak by the shoulder harness the kid wore, and started dragging him across the street, as the rodent fired off a few suppressive fire shots with the Scatter gun.

"This is gonna hurt," Torn said, almost apologetically, as he forcefully shoved Jak down the hole into the sewer. He heard the kid hit, heard him curse, almost felt bad…

And then remember it was the stupid punk's fault they were even _in_ the damn market. And it was his own damn fault he'd gotten shot.


End file.
